I'm Game (A Very Craigslist Thanksgiving)
by doctorg
Summary: "If you'd like to have me as your strictly platonic date for Thanksgiving, but have me pretend to be in a very long or serious relationship with you, to torment your family, I'm game," the ad had said. "I require no pay but the free meal I will receive as your guest."


"Oh my god. Oh my_ god!"_ Stiles was practically hopping up and down with excitement. "You're perfect! Absolutely _perfect!_ With the _leather,_ and the _eyebrows_, and the — the_ brooding!"_

The man's mouth tightened, as if he was uncertain whether to frown or smile. Or well, maybe he was torn between a frown or grimace. Smiles didn't seem like they would be in his repertoire.

Which was absolutely _perfect_. Stiles had been treating this as a joke so far, almost certain the guy wouldn't even show. I mean, the ad itself was hilarious, in a wry meta-comedy way. A picture of a man, stubbled and surly, offering himself out to be a nightmare of a date for Thanksgiving.

_"If you'd like to have me as your strictly platonic date for Thanksgiving, but have me pretend to be in a very long or serious relationship with you, to torment your family, I'm game,"_ the ad had said. _"I can do these things, at your request: openly hit on other female guests while you act like you don't notice, start instigative discussions about politics and/or religion, propose to you in front of everyone, pretend to be really drunk as the evening goes on (sorry, I don't drink, but I used to. a lot. too much in fact. I know the drill), start an actual, physical fight with a family member, either inside or on the front lawn for all the neighbors to see. I require no pay but the free meal I will receive as a guest."_

Stiles figured the guy would have gotten hundreds of responses, most of them jokes. He fired off a quick email, trying to sweeten the pot with descriptions of the famous cinnamon-crunch-topped-caramel-apple-pie he would be bringing, but he hardly expected a response. And when the guy had actually answered, offering a time and place to meet, Stiles had expected a no show.

But here he was, and it was like Central Casting had sent him for the part of "Sullen Thug #5." Well,_ Insanely Hot_ Sullen Thug #5, but that was just icing on the cake.

"You're serious about this?" Stiles asked, trying to keep the hopeful squeak out of his voice. "You'll really do it? You're really a felon too, right? 'Cause my dad will totally be able to check."

"Yeah."

Stiles waited for a minute, but there didn't seem to be any more conversation forthcoming. But hey, a man of few words — that's all for the better. Totally in character, and all of that.

In fact, the man didn't even ask where they were going. He slung a small duffel into the back of Stiles' jeep and climbed in, seeming content to let Stiles chatter away.

"So, the thing is, Thanksgiving was always for _us_, you know? Just me and mom and dad. It was mom's favorite holiday. She taught me how to make this pie. And, I love my dad, okay, I want him to be happy, right? But to spring this on me on Thanksgiving, of all times. _ Her_ holiday, and all of a sudden it's like — 'Bam, Stiles, by the way, my girlfriend will be there, I want you to meet her.' Just, like, _ignore_ the fact that it'll be the first Thanksgiving ever that's not just us, just — " Stiles could feel his throat getting thick, and he swallowed hard, suddenly self-conscious about his rambling. "So, anyway, that's why," he finished up awkwardly. Not that the guy — Derek — had even asked why, or said anything really beyond his name.

He glanced over, half expecting the guy to be on the verge of tuck-and-rolling out of the Jeep, but Derek just looked thoughtful. Well, broody and thoughtful, but hell — his Resting Murder Face was part of what made him ideal for this situation.

"So you're getting back at him by bringing a guy," Derek finally said.

"Huh? Oh, nah, dude. He's totally cool with the bi thing, I've been out since high school."

"Oh." Derek seemed to engage in a long session of broody manpain after that comment, and Stiles waited patiently. "So, do you want me to do any of that other stuff in the ad? Pretend to be drunk, or hit on someone…?"

"Not the drunk thing," Stiles said quickly. "I mean...just, a sore subject, you know? After mom died, my dad got a little — anyway, not relevant." He bit his lip, considering. "No, you're fine just as you are. Are those full-sleeve tats? Maybe roll up your sleeves, show them off a little. It's the whole — you know, felon, angry, borderline-homicidal thing you've got going on. That'll drive him crazy. He'll flip if he thinks I'm with someone who isn't treating me right, you know? He just," Stiles' voice faded out a bit. "Uh, he just wants me to be happy, I guess." Something sour turned over in Stiles' gut. "Fuck." He stared out the windshield, blinking rapidly. "I'm a little shit, aren't I?"

"You're hurt," Derek said, and Stiles couldn't help staring at him, jaw hanging open for a minute before yanking his attention back to the road. That had practically been a _feeling_, there. The guy had gotten into the car as Charles Manson and all of a sudden now he was Dr. Phil?

"You can back out," Derek went on. "You could just...drop me off anywhere. I can find my own way back."

"_Dude."_ Stiles wasn't sure whether to find that heartbreaking or offensive. "I may be an asshole, but I'm not enough of an asshole to ditch you by the roadside on Thanskgiving Day. I mean, no way. We'll go, we'll just...um, you know. Be nice." Stiles felt a knot of tension he hadn't even realized was between his shoulderblades relax. "We can just be, like, normal. My dad deserves it."

Stiles felt himself smiling in relief, but the smile faded as he cast another glance at Derek. The man looked practically panicked, his eyes wide — and whoa, how had Stiles not noticed those amazing green-hazel-blue-gold eyes before? His fingers were clenching nervously at his sides.

"What's wrong? Do — do _you_ want to back out?" Stiles asked.

"I just —" Derek stopped. He turned his head, staring out the passenger side window, his jaw clenching.

Stiles waited a good thirty seconds, which was practically a gold-medal achievement. "Yeah, not a complete thought, dude," he finally blurted out. "You're gonna have to give me a little more."

Derek finally turned back to Stiles, looking grim. "That stuff in the ad — I could do that stuff. I mean, I could be someone that nobody wants to take home." He shrugged, muscular shoulders rolling under the leather jacket. "I'm not good at the other thing." He must have read the confusion on Stiles' face, his own expression scrunching up with the effort it seemed to take to clarify. "The _normal_ thing," he finally got out.

"Oh." Stiles thought that over for a while. "I mean, I dunno if that's true. You seem like a good guy to me. 'Cause, your ad was really funny, so I know that's in there somewhere. And you agreed to do this anyway, y'know, help out a total stranger. You didn't have to do that." Stiles had been trying to tamp down on his curiosity, but who was he kidding? Curiosity was his middle name. "Why _did_ you do that, anyway?"

Another shrug, another long silence, to the point where Stiles had given up on an answer. He was just about to fiddle with the radio to fill the silence when Derek finally spoke.

"We — I used to have a big family, and we'd get together for Thanksgiving. Lately it was just my sister and me, and then earlier this year my sister —" He didn't finish the sentence, but Stiles had no doubt about what had happened to his sister.

"Anyway," Derek continued, his voice a low mumble. "I didn't have anywhere else to be."

"Yeah. Okay." Christ, Stiles was getting a little choked up here. "Sure thing," he said, babbling as always in response to strong emotion. "No problem, I mean, I'm glad. Not that I'm glad that you didn't have anywhere else to be, I mean, that's awful, but I'm glad that — I'm glad you're here," he finished in a rush of breath.

If he had thought about it he wouldn't have done it, but he didn't think — he just reached out, grabbing the hand Derek was twisting nervously in the fabric of his jeans, and gave it a squeeze.

He had a moment of _Oh shit, what did I just do?_ and was about to pull his hand back, when Derek's fingers suddenly squeezed tight in return. "Thanks," Derek mumbled.

"No problem." Stiles could feel himself smiling again, his hand seeming to buzz pleasantly where his fingers were now entwined with Derek's. "This is gonna be — this is gonna be great." He kept his hand in Derek's until he had to shift gears.

Stiles found himself telling Derek things he hadn't told anyone. How he wanted to do a double-major in Criminology and Psychology, but he wasn't sure how his dad would react to Stiles following in his law-enforcement footsteps. How he worried about his dad's heart, and if his new girlfriend was feeding him bacon cheeseburgers just to get on his good side Stiles was legit gonna throw down. How his best friend, Scott, had been all weird and distant over Skype in the past few weeks, and Stiles was worried about losing a friendship with someone who was like a brother to him.

All in all, things were going swimmingly, until Stiles took the exit off the freeway. All of a sudden Derek seemed to tense up again, his spine stiffening as he shot nervous glances out the window.

Stiles chattered on for a bit longer, but finally he couldn't stand it anymore. Did the dude have to go to the bathroom or something? "We're almost there," he tried to reassure him.

"You — live in Beacon Hills?" Derek asked.

"Yep. All my life. Me and the Pops, longtime Beacon Hills residents." Derek did not look reassured in the slightest. In fact, his expression was growing increasingly grim. "Um. Why?"

Derek's jaw clenched. It seemed like kind of a thing with him. "I'm from here too."

"No _way!"_ Stiles burst out, before belatedly realizing that this didn't seem to be quite the happy homecoming on Derek's part. "I mean...sorry? I promise, I didn't know, man, or I would have warned you."

"It's okay," Derek ground out, but the tension remained even as Stiles pulled up in front of his dad's house.

They climbed out of the Jeep in silence, Stiles handing Derek the pie to hold while Stiles pulled out the other covered dish.

"Brussel sprouts," Stiles explained in response to Derek's unasked question.

"You didn't mention those in your email."

"Yeah, man, I was trying to sweeten the deal, not scare you off! No one shows for _brussel sprouts,"_ Stiles snarked.

"I like brussel sprouts," Derek supplied.

"Oh! Well...cool. These are awesome, they have cranberries and pancetta and pine nuts. I found the recipe on this blog…"

Stiles was still chattering as the front door opened. "Dad!" He pushed through the doorway, dragging Derek with him, holding the dish out to one side so his dad could come in for a hug. Then he snagged the pie dish from Derek as well.

"Dad, this is Derek —"

"Derek _Hale?"_

Derek froze, his arm still extended for a handshake. "Deputy Stilinski?"

"Derek. I hardly recognized you." Stiles watched, entranced, as Derek seemed to blush, the tips of his ears turning pink as he pulled self-consciously at the sleeves of his leather jacket as if to cover up his tattoos. "You got so _tall!"_ the sheriff continued. "Come here, son!"

Stiles felt his jaw drop open as his father reached out to Derek, gathering him in to a hug as well. "I'm glad to see you again, son," the sheriff said, his voice gone a little husky. At first Derek stood stiffly, his arms at his side, but as the sheriff seemed to be in no danger of ending the hug Stiles suddenly saw Derek lean into the embrace, his arms coming up to hug the sheriff in return.

Stiles got a glimpse of Derek's face over his father's shoulder and he looked — suddenly so young, so vulnerable. Stiles found himself turning away to put the dishes down on the dining table in a hurry so that he could wipe at his own face. Because he certainly wasn't getting misty-eyed, someone must be chopping onions in the kitchen, right?

He cleared his throat. "So, I'm guessing you guys know each other?"

Derek seemed to become self-conscious, pulling back finally. "Your dad was the first deputy on the scene. After — after the fire. He was really nice to Laura and me."

Stiles was glad he had put the dishes down, because he was sure he would have dropped them otherwise. It suddenly clicked for him — the Hale house fire. Ten people dead and only the two young Hale siblings had survived. His dad had come home hours and hours late, just as Stiles' mom had been getting him ready for school. He had been red-eyed and covered in soot, smelling of smoke and ash, and he had hugged Stiles tightly until Stiles had pulled away, complaining of the stink.

When Derek had spoken about having a big family in the past tense, Stiles had just assumed there had been a fight or something, an estrangement. Not that Derek had lost everyone he loved in one night, and then to lose Laura as well —

"I was real sorry to hear about Laura," the sheriff was saying as if he could read Stiles' mind, his expression grim, his own eyes a little shiny.

"You —" Derek looked at the ground. "I didn't think anyone out here knew."

"I've always kept tabs on you two, best as I can," the sheriff explained. "Laura was an adult, and I understand you two not wanting to stick around here after what happened, but don't think that there weren't people back here thinking about you, and worrying after you." The sheriff put a hand on Derek's shoulder, seeming to steady him. "Never think that you two were alone."

Derek's mouth twisted, and Stiles found himself moving closer, putting a comforting hand on his arm.

"Thanks, deputy," Derek mumbled at his boots, his voice raspy.

"Sheriff now," the sheriff said, his tone lighter. "And call me John, son." He drew Derek forward. "Now are you ready for this meal? There's been some pretty heavy-duty cooking going on around here…"

"I think that's my cue." A head of curly brown hair popped around the doorway from the kitchen.

"Mrs. McCall?" Stiles felt the smile break across his face as he leaped forward, gathering her into a hug. "I didn't know you were coming! Scotty said you guys were doing Thanksgiving with your...new...boyfriend?" He pulled back, his suspicions confirmed by the mischievous sparkle in her eyes. "No _way!"_ he yelped.

The sheriff pulled Melissa up against his side. _ "Yes_ way," he said gruffly, his face turning a bit pink.

"Dad...never use slang again," Stiles grumbled. "I can't believe you guys didn't tell me!" Quick on the heels of that realization came another. _"That's_ why Scott has been so weird over Skype lately!"

The sheriff snorted. "Boy can't keep a secret to save his life," he said with a smile. "But we wanted to tell you in person." He seemed to hesitate, his eyes searching Stiles'. "This is really okay with you? I mean, I know you and Scott were trying to get us together all the time when you were kids, but it wasn't the right time for either of us. Now, though…"

"Are you _kidding_ me?" Stiles felt like the smile was going to split his face in two. "This is _awesome!_ I'm —" He couldn't help going in for another hug, gathering both of them in this time. "I'm really happy for you two. Like, _really_ happy."

"Good," the sheriff said. "Let's eat."

Later that evening, Stiles and Derek stood in the kitchen, shoulders bumping companionably as Stiles washed dishes and Derek dried. Stiles couldn't keep the smile from his face. It had been the perfect Thanksgiving.

Mrs. McCall had served his dad only the white meat, and had managed to make him eat at least three different vegetables. Scott had shown up from his shift at the vet clinic, and after a whack on the head from Stiles for keeping the secret they had settled back into their comfortable friendship, close as ever. Closer even, maybe, now that they might be _actual_ brothers soon, as they had taken every opportunity to say over the course of the evening just to see their parents blush.

And...Derek. Whatever Derek had thought about not being good at the whole "normal" thing, he had fit right in with Stiles' family. He still didn't say much, but no one seemed to mind, and when he did speak he was smart, and funny, and best of all he turned out to be a not-so-secret _nerd_.

One Star Wars quote from Stiles and Derek's whole face had lit up. He and Stiles had engaged in a debate over _Jedi_ versus _Empire_ as the best movie that was so animated and lengthy that Melissa finally had to pull rank and motion that the discussion be tabled so as not to interfere with the serving of the pies. And Derek had eaten _two_ servings of Stiles' mom's famous cinnamon-crumble-topped-caramel-apple-pie.

Now Stiles was replete with good food and happiness, buzzing with contentment, and trying to ignore the impulse to lean over and lay a smooch on the hot-like-burning man who seemed to be equally content at his side. He focused his attention on scrubbing the roasting pan, hoping the steam from the sink would explain the pinkness in his cheeks.

"Thanks," Derek suddenly said. Stiles lifted his eyes from the sink to find Derek watching him earnestly, scratching at his beard a little self-consciously. "For bringing me after all, I mean. I — I had a really good time. And I'm glad I didn't have to be a jerk to your family. They're — they're really nice."

"Yeah, they're great," Stiles agreed. He handed Derek the final dish and grabbed another dishcloth, drying his hands and rolling his sleeves back down. "You know, you — this doesn't have to be a one-time thing. They all really like you."

Derek's eyes shot back up to Stiles with an intensity that made Stiles almost step back. "I mean, no strings attached," he hurried to say. "I know the deal was a totally platonic date and all that — but, what I'm trying to say is..._mi familia es tu familia_, or something like that. You can come for like Christmas, or whatever. We can, like, stage an amicable breakup or something. No one would hold it against you." Stiles felt his mouth twist wryly. "Not everyone can handle this jelly," he said, gesturing at himself. "It's not like it's a package deal, if you don't —"

"What if I want to?" Derek took a step closer, and Stiles felt all the air leave his lungs.

He had already forgotten what the question was. "Want to what?" he finally managed.

"Want to...handle this...jelly?" Derek said, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion even as he moved that last inch closer, settling his hands tentatively at Stiles' waist.

"Oh my god." Stiles couldn't help it. He leaned in, snickering into Derek's neck. "You totally can't pull off slang either."

He put his arms up around Derek and they stood together like that, both shaking with silent laughter for a moment, until Stiles finally pulled back, wiping his eyes. "But yeah. I mean, that would be awesome. If you really mean it. Because, you know, you're like _incredibly_ hot, and I'm kind of a loudmouth, if you haven't noticed, and…"

Derek leaned in, kissing the rest of the words right out of Stiles' mouth. And god, his mouth was soft and gentle, the kiss almost chaste, the stubble of his beard gently tickling Stiles' cheeks. Until Derek moved closer, pressing Stiles back against the sink and deepening the kiss, sweetly coaxing Stiles' mouth open. Then it wasn't chaste at all. It was lush and wet and dizzying, Derek's body a line of warmth all down Stiles' front, his strong hands tightening at Stiles' hip and back, reeling him in even closer as he kissed him soft and slow and deep.

"Whoa," Stiles finally said when they broke for air. "That was…"

"— amazing," Derek finished for him.

"Yeah." Stiles smiled, lifting his hand up to gently brush along that stubbled cheekbone, because he was allowed now, he thought. _"Amazing,"_ he repeated.

And when Stiles had thought that smiling wasn't in Derek's repertoire? He was as wrong as a person could be. Because the smile that broke across Derek's face was...luminous. Life-changing. Like, a jaw-droppingly, sunshine-in-a-bottle, Disney-prince, bluebirds-should-start-bringing-him-flowers sort of smile.

No wonder Derek kept that thing so firmly under wraps. The effect on unsuspecting bystanders could be devastating. Just one look at it and Stiles thought that he might be happy spending the rest of his life just making Derek smile like that again, as much as possible.

And so he did.


End file.
